


The walls are slowly closing in

by seekingoutfriday



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, Platonic Harold and Root, Set during SNAFU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 10:16:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14830391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingoutfriday/pseuds/seekingoutfriday
Summary: “Miss Groves, where should Mr. Reese put your items?” Harold asked, gesturing to John who was carrying two large shopping bags and a rolled up rug over his shoulder.Harold Finch and Root decorate Root's room in the subway and have a heart-to-heart.





	The walls are slowly closing in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paenteom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paenteom/gifts).



> Just wanted a scene about the very purple room of Root's. Also, I am not a tech wiz at all and know nothing about ASI's, so I am very sorry about my lack of knowledge.

“Root, where should Mr. Reese put your items?” Harold asked, gesturing to John who was carrying two large shopping bags and a rolled up rug over his shoulder.

Root spun her chair around from where she was facing a computer, in the middle of basic standalone functional testing. She had napped on the cot – coincidentally, the one Shaw was forced to sleep on – for a couple hours, tossing and turning, before waking up to finish testing on the Machine. She had been typing for forty-five minutes when she heard John and Harold open the candy machine to the abandoned subway.

“Thank you Harry… and lurch,” Root smirked. “You can put all that in the storage room over there. And perhaps help me set up?”

John stared at Root before turning to Finch. “I have to be back at the station in an hour,” he said and dumped the rug on the ground. “Good luck, Finch.”

“Wonderful, you get to be my decorating buddy.” Root squeezed Harold’s shoulders before skipping to the storage room. “Pick up the bags, Harry!”

Harold side-eyed Root’s retreating back before leaning weight on a leg and bending over, grabbing the bags.

“Grijpen, Bear!”

Bear bit the end of the rolled-up purple rug and trotted after Harold, tail wagging, happy to help out his two masters. 

“Root, are you sure you need all this?” Harold took a lava lamp out of a bag and raised his left eyebrow. “Pardon me, but – a lava lamp?”

Root shot him a glance. “No need to be rude.” Root unpacked the comforter and laid it on the twin sized better, patting it to lessen the wrinkles. “Set it on the desk there.”

Root plopped on the bed, calling Bear up. He wagged his tail and jumped on, nuzzling into her stomach. She watched Harold turn on the lava lamp, before turning around and slowly unraveling the shag rug.

“I asked my mom for a lava lamp when I was a kid,” Root whispered. Harold stopped with setting up the room. “I wanted it for my birthday. But she needed more medicine, so we couldn’t afford much else.”

Harold flashed back to first meeting Root – My mom told me to follow my talents – a grimaced. “… You don’t speak about your past. Of course, Mr. Reese and I know about Samantha Groves, but you… none of us know much.”

Root shrugged. “Shaw knows a little.”

Harold's heart fluttered a moment hearing the present tense in Root's sentence, knowing that it is no longer wish fulfillment on their part, that it truly is "Shaw knows" and not "Shaw knew," that she's alive somewhere. Harold knew to remain silent as Root continued petting Bear, allowing the silence to envelope them and Root refused to say more. “Mr. Reese and I will go back to Pier One tomorrow to collect the rest of your things. I believe a chair and ottoman were also on your list. I know you’re anxious to get a proper living space for yourself since you’ve been relegated underground.”

“Just between you and I, this isn’t the worst place I’ve slept in,” Root joked. “But anyway Harry, I need to go turn off Her higher functions, and then you’ll need to test that Her higher functions are working. Since you’re back, we can start that now.”

“The Machine has gone through a lot. I’d rather turn it off and let it rest before we test the facial recognition.”

Root’s smile fell. “We can just… She’s fine, Harold. She needs to get back up.”

“Root, I assure you, it can wait another day. Besides, I am still Professor Whistler and I have a stack of papers to grade.”

Bear was shoved off the bed as Root jumped up, attempting to stop Finch. “I need her functioning properly, Harold. It’s been months and – ”

“We have to go slowly so we do this properly and not risk damaging the Machine even further. We’ve been over this.”

Root stood in the doorway, clenched fists. “I need her up and running, Harold.”

“She will be,” Finch said calmly, using Root’s preferred pronoun for the Machine. “But She needs rest, and I need to keep my identity that She created intact.”

“I just…” Root looked off to the side, refusing to reach Harold’s eyesight. “I’ve been stuck here for months, Harold. I haven’t seen the city in who knows how long, and Shaw is… she’s not here and She knows how to find her.”

“The Machine will function as intended. We’ve been working non-stop, and we all need a break, the Machine included.” Harold sighed when Root unconsciously shook her head and stepped in, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know the past year has been tiring for you, Root. And I know you miss Miss Shaw dearly. I do too. But we’re doing all we can.”

Root clenched her jaw. “It’s not good enough. And you _know_ we are not 'doing all we can' because we stopped  _looking_ for Shaw and She knew were she was the whole time.”

Bear sat at the foot of the bed, tail still wagging despite the disturbance in the room. He went over and rubbed his snout into Root's hand, expecting a pet. Root obliged before continuing. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm just..."

"You're lonely," he stated.

Harold stepped back into the room, where Root was now seated back on the bed with Bear again in her lap. He turned on the lava lamp, watching the purple and white bubbles float in the glass lamp, their shadows casting on the dingy wall. The corners of his lips twitched up for a brief smile. "Miss Shaw would have rolled her eyes at this lamp."

Root smiled. "I know. She'll make fun of it when she - when she comes back."

Harold nodded, feeling as if Root's outburst had dissipated, and headed out of the subway to read essays.

"Harry?"

He quickly turned. "Yes, Root?"

Root peered out of the room at Harold. "Thank you for the rug and the lamp."

He gave her a small smile before saying you're weclome. They'd work on the Machine in the morning.


End file.
